


Colour

by finwritesthings



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot, this is just a thing i wrote that I liked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finwritesthings/pseuds/finwritesthings
Summary: How we view colour.





	Colour

**Author's Note:**

> Did a sprint with the theme of colour, this was my piece for it and I really liked it.

Colours. We see them every day. Our world is filled with them. We use them to describe places, memories, ideas. Something so common, so mundane, and yet, they can still hold so much meaning. We smear our lives with colours in ways only humans can, because who else would put so much weight on something so trivial? We make judgments on others lives based on their colours. The colours of their skin, their hair, their eyes. The colours of the flags they wave, the colours of the clothes they wear. But are the colours really the problem here? Or is it the meaning we put to them. The inane idea that certain colours hold certain weights, create certain barriers, force people to live certain lives. It is an ideology that has manifested in our society, a weed that has grown too long into something wildly unkempt. And yet, we trudge on, we continue to perpetuate the idea that the value of human life is affected by the colours they painted with. As if the brush strokes used to lay each layer of paint holds no weight. As if the canvas on which they painted holds no weight. As if the people who spilt, smeared, defiled their art have no responsibility. As if it is about how much green they have in their work and not the technique they used to put it there. As if we have the right to judge others based on their paintings when we have blemishes, sun-faded patches, smears of our own. We take the idea of colour, and we twist, just as we do with all things. We manipulate it into another form of control, another form of oppression. How can we place so much weight on something so unimportant? How can we place so much weight on something not everyone has in their life? How can oppression and privilege stem from something that should be no more relevant to those topics than the air we breathe? Colour. How can we call ourselves evolved when can’t even learn how to see past it?


End file.
